


How Kurt's Cat Got a New Name

by cinder1013



Category: Glee
Genre: Break up sex, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2018-02-18 07:43:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2340551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinder1013/pseuds/cinder1013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt and Blaine have been broken up for at least a week before Blaine's cat shows up on Kurt's doorstep, pleading to be let in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Kurt's Cat Got a New Name

**Author's Note:**

> As many of you know, I barely ever write Klaine. Enjoy.

Kurt hated pets. 

So, when Blaine moved in and he wanted to get a kitten, Kurt strenuously objected. As usual, Blaine didn’t listen. Kurt found himself the not-quite-so-delighted roommate of a pretty little tortoiseshell kitten that Blaine named Shelly. 

Kurt thought the pun was clever at the time, but not so much now. 

Shelly lived with them for 3 years until things ended ... not badly, but not good either ... and Blaine moved out. While Shelly lived with him, Kurt took care of her, fed her, combed her, bought her designer collars, and cleaned her litter box. He tried to get Blaine to share some of the burden, but Blaine wasn’t much good at housework. It was one of the reasons why they broke up, in fact. 

Blaine wanted Kurt to have Shelly, but Kurt insisted she go. 

“She’s not my cat,” he said. “I hate pets.” 

Blaine left, taking the not pleased about it cat with him. 

Kurt kind of missed her, but this was important. Pets died. They had very short life spans and he didn’t like to be emotionally invested in something or someone who would just leave him. Like Blaine. Like ... yeah. 

It was unnecessary emotional investment. 

When Kurt got home from rehearsal the Saturday after Blaine and Shelly moved out, he was surprised to find the cat sitting on his doorstep, cleaning her already immaculate paws. “Umm, hi.” He let her in, dialing Blaine’s number before the door even shut. 

“What is your cat doing in my apartment?” he asked, not even waiting to exchange pleasantries. 

“Is Shelly there?” Blaine sounded frantic. “She’s been missing for 2 days!” 

Calmly, Kurt walked into the kitchen and rifled through his cupboards until he found an old can of Shelly’s food. She jumped right up onto the counter, like she owned the place, to eat it. Kurt had long ago given up on trying to stop her. “You mean to tell me, this cat traipsed all the way across the city to see me of her own free will?” 

“She’s just not used to this being home yet,” Blaine said. “Could you bring her home?” 

Kurt sighed. “I suppose I have nothing better to do with my evening. We’ll be over in about 2 hours. I still have to take my face off.” 

“Well, then, the least I can do is offer you take out Chinese.” 

“No, the least you can do is offer me Thai. Don’t forget the cat likes the Kanom Jeeb without onions.” 

“Why don’t you ever call her Shelly?” Blaine asked. 

“Because that’s not her name,” Kurt murmured and hung up before Blaine could reply. Cats all have 3 names, the name they show the world, the name they share with their friends and sometimes their humans, and their secret name. For this cat, Shelly wasn’t any of these. It was the wrong name. That’s why none of the designer collars Kurt got her had Shelly written on them. 

Kurt went and changed into evening traveling wear and waited for Shelly to finish eating before coaxing her into her traveling box, which for some reason was still at his place, and heading off to Blaine’s new apartment in Brooklyn. 

While they traveled, Kurt read T.S. Eliot to her and stroked her ears to keep her calm. 

Arriving at Blaine’s he let Shelly out onto the floor. It was a mostly clean little studio apartment. Not for long, Kurt thought. Blaine and neatness - never the twain shall meet. 

“Did you remember the Kanom Jeeb without onions?” Kurt asked. 

“I forgot to tell them to make it without onions,” Blaine told him sheepishly. “I didn’t know what to get you, so I ordered pineapple fried rice.” Kurt ended up eating the onion infested dumplings and Shelly ate the fried rice. 

He and Blaine sat at the table a while, talking and laughing, then retired to the bedroom for some ex-boyfriend sex before Kurt insisted on going back to his apartment in Manhattan. “I have to get up for work in the morning,” he insisted. “You’re the one who lives in BFE.” 

Four days later he arrived home to find the cat on his doorstep again. He barely had the door open behind he’d dialed Blaine’s number this time. “Seriously? You want me to believe she just loves me this much?” 

“Shelly is there?” 

“I am not taking your cat, Blaine. The both of you can get it out of your furry little heads," scratching Shelly’s ears as he said it.

“I’ll come to get her. It’s the least I can do.” 

Blaine used that phrase so much and Kurt always wondered why. The least he could do, obviously, was nothing at all, and Blaine was quite capable of lounging around doing nothing. Not that he wasn’t ambitious. Mr. double major and 3 plays in progress at any given time. No, that wasn’t it at all. When Blaine got a chance to do nothing, he quite frankly, did nothing. It looked like an episode of _Married with Children_. 

Kurt never did nothing. He couldn’t stop. It was the way he was wired. He pushed and pushed until he collapsed. 

Another reason they were broken up.

Blaine rushed in about an hour later, the handle of the cat's carrying case clenched in his fist. "Shelly?" 

They both watched as the cat zipped under the bed. 

"Well, want some spaghetti while we wait for her to come out?" Kurt asked. "I have a bottle of wine."

Food, wine, and laughter later, Kurt rose to do the dishes, but Blaine successfully distracted him with kisses. “Fuck, your mouth,” he whispered. “I miss your mouth like crazy. Please say we can.” 

“It’s not healthy, Blaine,” Kurt protested, but there was no heat in it. He wanted Blaine more than anything. 

“I don’t care,” Blaine told him, as he maneuvered Kurt into the bedroom. “I don’t care. I don’t care.” Or it might have been that. Kurt muffled his words with kisses. They made love in the soft sheets of Kurt’s bed, Blaine’s tongue saying everything about how much he missed Kurt as he trailed it along his ex-boyfriend’s body. Kurt’s body giving in to every caress the way he knew he shouldn’t. 

Kurt woke later that night, Blaine’s arms wrapped warm and tight around him. The cat sat primly on the vanity chair, licking her paws. She looked smug. 

“I should go,” Blaine murmured, still half asleep. “I didn’t bring a change of clothes.” 

“There’s still some of your things in the bottom of my dresser,” Kurt said, turning over into Blaine’s embrace, kissing him long and slow and lazy. 

The morning reminded Kurt of so many mornings when they’d lived together, Blaine rushing around, trying to find his shoes and tuck his shirt in at once, a toothbrush dangling from his lips. Still, it was nice. 

Casually, Blaine tossed Kurt his keys. “Can you take Shelly back?” 

Kurt tossed them back. “Just come by after work and pick her up.” 

Blaine agreed with one of his blindingly beautiful smiles and then rushed out the door. 

When Kurt came back in the evening, Blaine was still there. Or there again. Kurt wasn't keeping track, although he thought he should have. The cat thought otherwise. He, the cat, sat on the table, cleaning his paws. 

"I think your cat wants to get us together again," Kurt commented, a grin on his face. 

"He's a romantic!" Blaine yelled back, stirring the sauce. 

"How cute," Kurt muttered. "Are you making spaghetti?" 

"Yup. Shelly likes it." 

"Her name isn't Shelly," Kurt muttered. Out loud he said, "Are there extra onions?"

"Only if you promise to brush your teeth," Blaine teased.

"Of course." Kurt scratched the cat's ears before heading to take his clothes off. And on. It wasn't that time yet. Like it would be after several glasses of red wine. 

There was red sauce and sausage and wine. And then there was sex. Kurt had to admit that sex with Blaine was the best. 

"Are you trying to get me with Blaine?" Kurt asked the cat, but of course she didn't reply, He had a day off, for once, so he hung out in bed, watching Blaine rush around. Enjoying it. 

"Don't gel your hair," Kurt begged, lounging in bed, throwing his arm over the side. "An afro is in style. Besides, your curls are beautiful." 

"They're awful," Blaine argued, trying to style his hair. 

"You're so wrong." Kurt threw out his long, pale arms, trying to entice his boyfriend - ex boyfriend - something back to bed. "Blaine, you love it when I tug on your curls." 

"Are you day-off drunk?" 

"Perhaps. It just ..." Kurt rarely had a day off. Blaine would refer to it as day-off drunk, when he would get positively giddy with good feelings and wonder, topped off with absolute terror of having nothing to do. "Stay with me?" 

"I have work," Blaine complained, knotting his tie. Suddenly, the cat jumped at him, knocking Blaine's grape juice off the table and all over him. "Fuck!" 

"She does. I swear she wants us to get back together," Kurt mused. 

“I cannot believe this! I have to go home for another shirt!”

“Blaine, Blaine, call in. You have to. By the time you get home, get a new shirt, and get back into the city, it’ll be lunch time. You only work until 2 today.” 

Blaine pulled at as his tie with one hand, groping for the phone with the other. “You still know my schedule?” he asked, just a hint sly. 

“Maybe ...” Kurt looked away. “You didn’t take me off the shared calendar and I didn’t say anything.” 

“I liked knowing where you were too,” Blaine said. 

Yanking Blaine close, Kurt began undoing his shirt buttons. “Let’s get this off. I’ll soak it in some cold water with vinegar.” He whipped the shirt off Blaine’s strong chest just as Blaine managed to connect with the girl at the office, explaining why he couldn’t come in and promising to keep more clothes at his boyfriend’s place in the future. 

“She wants pictures of us naked,” he yelled as he hung up. 

“So, we’re boyfriends again?” Kurt asked, coming into the bedroom. 

“Oh, well, I ... uh ... I’m trying to prevent Shelly from being forced to use violence.” 

“That’s not her name,” Kurt muttered, before flopping back on the bed and picking up a magazine. 

“You keep saying that, but I don’t understand. How is it not her name?” 

“Did you ever read T.S. Elliot?” 

Blaine frowned. “That Prufrock thing? Really, Kurt? He was a loser.” 

“No, not that one. _Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats_. Andrew LLoyd Webber based _Cats_ on it? Ring a bell?” Kurt sighed. “Every cat has 3 names. There’s the name their family calls them, which are usually wrong, then the name that is peculiar to them, then the name that no one else knows.” 

“Oh, right, I’d forgotten that. It’s a really long, kind of boring song.”

“It’s slow. You never read the book?” 

Blaine shook his head. 

“And it’s just that, Shelly is not her name. Her true name. You know?” Kurt paced for a few moments. “It’s just bothering me.” He stopped in front of the cat, who sat on top of the kitchen counter, cleaning her paws. “It’s like trying to figure out Rumplestiltskin or something.” 

“I see. But if all that is true, I don’t think we can just sit here and guess and I don’t want to keep calling her _that cat_ or _hey you_.” 

“Yeah, it’s not something to figure out now,” Kurt agreed. 

“Right, so if we’re going to ... are we going to, uh, figure out her name?” Blaine asked, hopefully. 

“Yeah, I suppose if we were going to do that, we should ... you know.”

“I should move back in?” Blaine asked hopefully. 

“Do you promise to clean up after yourself?”

“Do you promise to do nothing once a while?” Blaine countered. “I’ll do my best if you do your best.” 

“I suppose,” Kurt conceded, with all the nonchalance he could muster. “It is closer to your work after all.” 

“After all.” 

“And ...” Kurt took a deep breath. “I do miss you.” 

“Really?” He pulled Kurt close. “I miss you too, especially at night. I miss holding you. I miss playing with your hair before you fall asleep when I know you won’t protest.” 

“I miss you mussing it up while I blow you.” 

Blaine’s eyes widened. “Let’s go do that now. And then I’ll blow you. And then ... we’ll do stuff. More stuff. Lots of stuff.” 

“Just close the door. I’ve noticed that your cat is a voyeur.” 

“She’s your cat now too ... again,” Blaine teased. “Besides, she likes you best.” Dragging Kurt by the wrist, he pulled him toward the bedroom. Suddenly, he stopped. Turning, he looked at the cat. “Bastet?” 

Jumping down from the counter, she sauntered over and curled herself around Blaine’s legs and then Kurt’s, effectively pushing them together. 

“I think you discovered it!” Kurt grinned. “I ... yes, she seems to like it.” 

“It sounds royal. Seemed appropriate.” Blaine resumed dragging Kurt toward the bedroom and Kurt happily followed. 

In the morning, Kurt woke to Blaine cuddled up behind him and Bastet sleeping in the curve of his stomach. It was too blissful to move, even to pet his two beautiful loves. “Thank you,” he whispered to Bastet. “We’ll all be very happy.” 

Blaine moved back in the following weekend. Sure they fought sometimes. Blaine still didn’t always pick up after himself and Kurt struggled with relaxing, but Bastet kept them in line for many years. Many, many blissful years.


End file.
